Part VI: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Margery Eunice Davis Wienand

(December 6, 1911-February 13, 2000)

The second child of Luther and Ellie Davis was born on December 6, 1911. Margery Eunice Davis was almost four years younger than her sister Mary Lucille and a little over 3 years older than her brother Cronin who was born the early part of 1915. Early pictures of Margery, whose name was chosen for a perfume sold at her father’s drug store,* show a beautiful child with engaging eyes as well as physical grace. Her beauty and grace would be a hallmark even into adult life. What the early years were like for the three children of Luther and Ellie can only be told in pictures. There is one photograph of Luther, Ellie, Mary Lucille and Margery that shows Margery standing close to her handsome father. Judging from the possible ages of the children and the pleasant look on Ellie’s face the third child (Cronin) more than likely was on the way. As I look closely at Margery, her eyes once again are the clear and bright lamps that I remember from my earliest times of visiting her in Montgomery, Alabama. Margery, perhaps, favored her mother Ellie more than her two siblings did. Ellie had a full oval face with perfectly positioned eyes. Margery, too, was stamped in her mother’s image.

The first memories of Margery Davis Wienand were after the family had moved from Fairhope, Alabama. I have to rely on her children’s knowledge of when this move took place because until recently I thought the Wienands had always lived in Montgomery. My father always spoke of Margery, but my first remembrance was a drop by visit to their home in 1955 or 1956. My oldest brother was enrolled in the Forestry Department at Auburn University, and after church one Sunday, we all piled into the car to drive over three hours to visit him. At age 11 it seemed like an endless journey to me. Because of the long drive back to Tuscaloosa we didn’t stay very long visiting with my brother. It was long enough, however, to deliver any needed supplies and care packages. On our way back to Tuscaloosa, we stopped at Margery and John Wienand’s home in Montgomery. I have a clear memory of being warmly greeted by my aunt and uncle as well as being fed from their table. Uncle John had a quiet but strong presence and Aunt Margery was interested in the details of life regarding her brother and his family. I was conscious that she had a genuine interest in who were were. My own family was not given to physical expressions of affection, but the Wienand family expressed their affection openly. I was impressed with this and remember early on desiring to imitate these characteristics. I have a vague recollection of my aunt and uncle’s two daughters and was intrigued to know that I had female cousins. With six boys in my family and out of the 19 cousins from my mothers family only 5 were girls and all were younger than I. Meeting an older girl cousin as well as a younger one in the same family was significant. Margery and John’s son who was known as Son-John since he was the third generation with the name was probably not home at the time. He was the same age as one of my older brothers so the age difference may have precluded interaction at the time.

We visited on several other occasions for the same reason of needing to go visit my brother at Auburn University. The same warmth and hospitality was always present as well as great affection for us as close relatives. My father spoke of Margery in affectionate ways and always enjoyed her written missives to our family. He had a Mobile-way of speaking her name and the sound was like someone who had been reared in Boston, MA. He pronounced “Auburn” the same way. I noticed that a lot of natives from the Mobile area spoke with that inflection even Margery herself. I loved to hear her say the word “Christmas.” It sounded like “Crusmus” or something similar.

As far as his two sisters were concerned, my dad was the “apple of their eye.” I wondered if this doting and “excessive” caring for the younger brother of the family had to do with the fact that these children had lost their “real mother” at early ages. Mary Lucille would have been 8, Margery was 4 ½ and Cronin was 16 months old. Until their dad remarried over three years after his first wife died, it had to be hard on the older two as well as the baby (Cronin). Perhaps, the two dear sisters looked after him in special ways.

Every February 14 on my dad’s birthday as long as I can remember, it was a guarantee that my father would receive a box of candy and a big, fuzzy, heart-shaped valentine from his sister Margery. Mary Lucille would also send a card. Maybe it didn’t happen every year, but it was often. I had never seen fuzzy, large valentines except when he received them on his birthday. I thought all valentines came in small sizes and many to a package like the ones that were handed out in school. There were always duplicates in the little packages, but my dad always had unique valentines. I remember, too, that it was an unspoken rule that none of us children would ask our dad for a piece of the candy that he had received in the special valentine candy box. He put the box in his underwear drawer of his chest of drawers. Each night before he went to work, he would take out a piece and put it in his lunch box. We were allowed to smell the box when it was empty. Russell Stovers and other candy makers seemed to steep their candy boxes in chocolate, and the sweet smell of chocolate stayed with the box for decades.

As all children seem to grow up faster than one imagines, the grandchildren of Luther and Ellie Davis followed suit. I remember other times that the Wienands and the Davises gathered together but the pace and direction of the various lives were always in multiple directions. Some of the cousins went into the service. I know that Son-John made a career in the Air Force. Some were going to the University. Others were making career choices that took them far away. Montgomery and Tuscaloosa are only 100 miles apart but as everyone even now can attest, “It is the longest and most time consuming hundred miles that anyone can imagine. “Are we there, yet?” is not even funny when driving that 100 miles.

There were weddings, and some were able to attend. These events only gave us snatches of time to get caught up and not everyone could be present for a zillion reasons. After a while, the little connections that we did have began to disconnect and we lost contact except for the news we would hear from our parents about Margery and John. Then, parents die and even children die before parents. Parents who were the hub of contact are no longer there to convey the news of cousins and relatives that we no longer really know. Now, funerals bring us together and everyone says, “We must get together.” Time and space, however, intervene, and the connections are not made for many reasons.

Relationships are intentional in that we are responsible for maintaining them. No one else is. Some are easy to maintain and are reciprocated. But, others are more complicated because of personalities, time or lack of interest.

As we age, some of us have a need to reconnect with family no matter how distant the relations. We may also wish that things had been different and the closeness that wasn’t there for years would have a resurgence through the remaining cousins whether they be first cousins or first cousins once removed. Since there are no more mothers or fathers remaining of our parents’ generation, we are left only with ourselves to carry on the remembrance of our parents’ siblings and of their parents and grandparents. Thus, we have genealogical works that list names or story memories like this present blog. There will always be gaps in the story. Sometimes the gaps are very large since one person’s memory is only part of the puzzle. The gaps in memory for dear Aunt Margery are great for me. Circumstances are never the same when it comes to equal time with relatives. The time for starting over or starting the first time is never too late while there is still breath. I rely now on my dear cousins, the surviving children of Margery Eunice Davis Wienand, to fill me in on the huge gaps that I’m incapable of filling. Actually, they have already begun that process to my delight. The best memory of her is that my parents loved her dearly as a sister and sister-in-law. That was evident from my earliest memory. This is enough to continue her memory in my own mind and pass it on to my children and grandchildren. Margery Davis Wienand’s joys, pains, heartaches, successes and triumphs are memories that may have been long forgotten, but her kind, loving, and caring ways live on in her children. Observe them closely, and you will observe as well as experience the loving legacy of Margery Davis Wienand.

*As remembered by her daughter

October's Party

October's Party
George Cooper (1844)

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came-
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."


This is a poem I learned in 3rd grade. We memorized it and went from room to room reciting it. As these last days of October wane as does the present harvest moon, may we in Michigan enjoy the last days of brilliant color.

Part V-d: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff (Part IV)

In early January of 1997, I received a phone call from my brother Rick who lives in Alabama. He said, “Ron, you’ve got to do something!” Mary Lucille had called him and she was on a war path and was madder than H-E-double-hockey-stick! She had not had any news at Christmas from her brother’s family in Tuscaloosa. That meant US! Mary Lucille loved her sister and two brothers dearly and kept in touch with all of them over the many years. Her two brothers were now deceased, and she expected that somebody, especially in her brother Cronin’s (my dad) family, to keep her up to date with what was happening in Alabama. I scanned my memory to see if I had forgotten to send a Christmas card. I wrote Mary Lucille several times a year, but apparently I had forgotten to get something to her at Christmas time. There was NO news from her nephews in Alabama and that was NOT good news! I told my brother that it was his turn to do something. I was letting myself off the hook this time.

(Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff)

Several minutes after the phone call, I sat down and wrote a letter to Mary Lucille. Then, I got the bright idea of trying to fax the letter so she would get it quicker than sending it by USPS. I called her son Duane to see if he had a fax machine at his office. I told him to go straight to the office because I was “high tailing” the letter to Oklahoma as soon as we disconnected our call. The letter was promptly delivered to Mary Lucille.

A couple of days later, I phoned my aunt to check on the situation. Mary Lu recognized my number from her caller ID box and answered with the question, “Is this my nephew from Michigan?” She then asked me if my faxed letter was precipitated by guilt for not writing at Christmas time. I reminded her that I had written several times that year and that I had responsibilities as a husband and a father as well as work responsibilities. If I forgot to send a Christmas greeting, this was not grounds for throwing a tantrum. She said, “It worked, didn’t it?” I told her that it had, but there were other ways to evoke a response other than beating up on people and terrorizing the neighborhood. I told her that I didn’t want her to try that tactic again. She said she wouldn’t, and she never did.

When I was in conversation with Duane regarding faxing a letter, he invited us out to Oklahoma. I told him we would come during our Spring Break from school. Our youngest was still at home so the three of us drove in early April the 20 hours from Michigan to Oklahoma. We arrived late Saturday evening and stayed with Duane and Eloise. The next day we were in church together which is where Mary Lucille discovered that we had arrived. On that Sunday afternoon, three of the Woodliff cousins gathered for a reunion. We had a great time reminiscing about family. Mary Lucille sat right next to me and held my hand affectionately. One of the cousins asked me to fill them in on my family and my brothers’ families. As I gave the details, Mary Lucille frequently interrupted my conversation. I had to lean over and quietly remind her that “it was not her time to speak and that I would tell her when her time was.” That settled it. From that time on, we had a good understanding that neither of us would try to control the other’s turf. It was finally working with respect and understanding. For me, it was a victory for the two of us. We both had aggressive personalities, and we came to terms with those personalities and found peace. Of course, how much it affected our other relationships in our individual families, I don’t know. But, I have a suspicion that not much changed with Mary Lucille on the other fronts of her life. I would like to believe that I changed for the better in regard to toning down my hyper personality with those around me. My children, however, would probably tell me differently. Over ten years later, they may say there has been improvement or, perhaps, they have only adjusted their lives to embrace it with more grace and mercy than I deserve.

We made a second trip to Oklahoma that year which was in early August when the Woodliff clan gathered at Ten Killer Lake in eastern Oklahoma for their annual Family Fest. They had all the water toys, good food, good humor (which is always more evident when Lance is present), and the stuff that makes a family even better—love and affection for one another in spite of our human frailties. Mary Lucille had recently had cataract surgery and was forbidden to go near the water. She wanted me to see her jet ski at 89 ½ years old. I told her as I took my turn to “baby sit” her in cottage that I would just have to imagine her jet skiing because the others and I were going to make sure she did not defy the doctor’s orders. She obeyed.

As we said our goodbyes on the last day of the reunion, we had our picture taken with Aunt Mary Lucille. I knew full well that this would be the last time I would see her in the flesh. She died on March 31, 2000 which was a little over six weeks after her sister Margery had died on February 13, 2000. My dad’s two sisters were now gone, and there was no one of their generation left to answer the questions that we waited too long to ask. My oldest brother told me once that the six of us came from such good, strong stock—the Davises, the Cronins, the Elliotts, and the Neighbors plus everyone in between. I believe he was right.

(Next: Memories of Margery Eunice Davis Wienand)

(Mary Lucille Woodliff with her nephew and nephew's wife)

Part V-c: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff (Part III)

In June of 1971 my wife and I decided to take make the long trek west to visit family and friends in Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas. Our first stop was to visit my grandfather Luther Davis’s sister who lived with her daughter and son-in-law in New Orleans. Aunt Elva Davis Crawford was the daughter of my great grandfather Andrew Russell and his wife Josephine Ryan Davis. The visit was for a couple of hours. Aunt Elva, as mentioned in a previous post, suffered most of her life from severe arthritis and was confined to the second level of her daughter’s home. Romans 12:12 describes her stance in life—“Rejoice in hope. Be patient in tribulation. Be constant in prayer.”

From New Orleans we drove to Taylor, Texas which is near Austin to visit a high school classmate who was now a priest in the Austin, Texas diocese. Afterwards, we drove what seemed like an immense distance from Austin to Tulsa, Oklahoma to visit another friend from college who was a priest in the Tulsa diocese. All the while, our main destination was Henryetta, Oklahoma where we once again would visit our OK family connection.

We arrived in Henryetta after spending eons of time squished inside a 1969 VW Beetle—no air conditioning. I remember that we arrived at Mary Lucille and Kirk’s home in mid-afternoon with more exhaustion than I was accustomed to. We were glad to be able to nap shortly after we arrived. The nap was not restful, however, either due to the fact that our bodies were not able to unfold due to the cramped conditions of the automobile or the fact that we had inadvertently walked into the preparations for a dinner party for newcomers to the Henryetta area. The living room and dining room had been arranged to accommodate numerous card tables that had been clothed in linen attire and set with fine china, silverware and stemmed crystal.

After our brief nap, we were swept into the rush of last minute preparations. My head was hurting from being fried in the sardine can of a vehicle that had no air conditioning. Plus, I was not prepared to be part of a welcoming party for strangers. I was relieved to know that Duane and Eloise (son and daughter-in-law of Mary Lucille) would be present for the occasion. Uncle Kirk, of course, would be present, also. There would be people I knew, and this was a relief for a shy person like me. As the dinner progressed, it was announced that at the end of each course of the meal, everyone would move to another table and join someone they had not yet met that evening. That meant if you were with your wife, you would part company with your spouse and head to a foreigner’s table. This was a good and clever way to make sure everyone got to meet everyone else. I, however, didn’t want to meet anyone else, but only wanted to stay put so I could just keep a low profile. I also was trying to protect my wife from too much fellowship. This didn’t sit well with the hostess who insisted that we cooperate. I quietly said that we would stay put and that decision was respected for which I was grateful.

When dessert was about to be served, the hostess stands and announces that at that moment, Ron Davis, her nephew, and Glenda, his dear wife, would play the piano for all to enjoy. I felt cornered again as well as exploited. How does one decline gracefully without making a scene amongst so many? I stood and said that my wife and I would be delighted to play the piano but not this evening. We would, however be delighted to play for Mary Lucille in the morning when we would be more rested. Secondly, there were two things that we definitely didn’t do while on vacation—one was to play the piano in public and the second was to talk about George C. Wallace, who was the governor of Alabama at the time. For a musician, playing the piano in public while on vacation was like asking a letter carrier (mailman, in the old days) to take a hike on his day off. We did play for Mary Lucille the next morning, and we had an enjoyable time, on our own terms so to speak.

Mary Lucille was very proud of her family—husband, sons, daughters, her siblings, nephews and nieces. She only wanted others to enjoy the richness that she was so blessed to have. She and I were a lot alike. I call it the “show and tell” syndrome or the “brain is in your mouth” approach to thinking. People like us love to share everything that is going on in our minds. That is how we process life. The problem is that most people get weary of people processing everything out loud as well as wanting to “show and tell” about everything that’s happening in their lives. Basically, Mary Lucille and I were kindergarten children at heart. It drives everyone else stark raving mad. Just look at this blog. We are now into the fifth part of a series on my great-grandparents and, this is part three of just one of their grandchildren. When will it ever end? Well, frankly, not until I tell one or two more episodes about Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff.

(To be continued with the visits in 1997)